I will find you
by NatAngle
Summary: After JJ shot a serial murderer, someone claiming to be his father shows up to avenge his death. Emily lies to save JJ, so she's the one taken instead. But what happens if the team follows the wrong lead, the UnSub decides to turn Emily against JJ, and if Henry turns up to accompany Emily? How long is Emily going to make it-and how can JJ cope with all this?
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: This is my first fanfic, so feedback is very much appreciated. Also, I'm not a native English, so please excuse the mistakes. I tried. :)**

**Of course, I do not own Criminal Minds, any of the characters, etc. They own me.**

**This piece primarily focuses on Emily's and JJ's friendship, later going to get pretty dark. I haven't continued the story yet, though I have the story line- but first I'd like to know if You think it's worth going on. Thanks for reading!**

**Thanks to Leah for helping with the language as well as with the plot.**

* * *

Emily didn't leave the office until long after midnight. She had to catch up with the paper work concerning their current case. Most of the team had gone home around ten p.m., opting for a relatively good night's rest to prepare them for the next day. JJ also had left earlier to take care of Henry- he'd become ill that afternoon and Will was due at work for the night shift. Hotch was the only one left, making sure all the paperwork was in order for.

She felt exhausted when she finally stepped out of the building and headed for her car. There was no one on the street; the lights of the car seemed blinding in the nocturnal darkness.

She was thinking about their current case. Garcia had identified the UnSub earlier that night and the team was going to arrest him the next day.

She hated this case. It was a pretty messy one -twenty women abducted and held captive for weeks. The UnSub made sure to destroy not only his victims but also their families- after murdering them, he sent the families a piece of their butchered loved one, to remind them that he had power over them. But what Emily hated the most was his victimology; every victim was blonde, tall and outstandingly fit. In other words, just like JJ.

Emily always felt unsettled when they had such a case, with victimology applying to a team member. But JJ didn't seem to be touched in any way.

Emily decided to drop by on her, to tell her that they got the UnSub. Even if JJ didn't ask for her support, Emily wanted to assure her that the case was over and they got another animal.

She didn't really expect JJ to be awake, but she thought it was worth a shot, so she got in her car and drove there.

She was a bit surprised to see the lights were still on at JJ's, after all, it was past 2 a.m. She got out of the car and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

"JJ?" she asked and knocked again. "Hey, JJ, you there?"

She felt oddly relieved when she heard JJ's steps through the door, approaching.

"It's just me, Emily. Could you let me in for a couple minutes?"

"Em?" she repeated. She had a hint of uncertainty in her voice. She opened the door, but left only a narrow gap, still not letting Emily in. She gazed out first, and then, seeing it really was Emily, spread the door wide open. "Hey, what are you doing here so late?"

"I was just…" Emily started when she noticed JJ was holding her gun. "Why do you need that?" she frowned. "Is everything OK?"

"Yeah, sure, everything's fine." JJ nodded hesitantly and tried to hide it behind her back. "Henry's sleeping upstairs, so…"

"Why do you need that gun?" Emily insisted, looking around, trying to find something that would've explained to her why JJ wasn't sleeping but standing guard with her gun.

"Bad habit," JJ replied, starting for the kitchen. "So, what's up? Do you want a drink?"

"No, thanks. I was just going to go home but I wanted to tell you first that Garcia identified the UnSub. His name is Tod something. Hotch said we'd get him tomorrow because we're all too exhausted to do it tonight."

"Why didn't you just call me with that?'

"I don't know." she shrugged. "I wanted to tell it in person. Look, I know you'd never say it, but I think this case got to you… a bit.'

"I don't know what you mean," JJ said. "It was just like all the others."

"Well…" Emily started but then she noticed a bunch of pictures, next to a half empty wine bottle on the coffee table in the living room. She went closer to take a look at them.

"That's nothing," JJ said, quickly going there. She collected the photos and put them on a shelf.

"Are those the photos from the last crime scene?" Emily asked uncomprehendingly. JJ tried to seem indifferent and didn't answer. "JJ, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I told you."

"Yeah? Then why were you looking at the victims' photos?"

JJ looked away.

"Because they all looked similar to you?" Emily risked. She saw JJ's eyes jerked. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Tell you what? That I got scared? That I let myself get emotionally involved in a case?" she said bitterly.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," Emily assured her, offering an encouraging smile. "It happens to all of us. We're not FBI drones, we don't have to hide our emotions all the time."

"Says the woman whose made of stone," JJ muttered.

Emily's smile faltered for a second before she shoved JJ's comment to the back of her mind.

"You know what? How about I stay here overnight?"

JJ didn't answer, just put the glass away to make enough room for the two of them. Accepting this favour struck Emily. Not that she didn't mean it, but JJ wasn't the type to accept favours unless things were really bad.

She left at dawn, to go home and change. She tried not to be too worried about JJ. She had to admit, this wasn't something she could help.

And partly, she was glad she had someone to worry over, so no one would worry about her.

* * *

They arrived on the scene early morning. They profiled the UnSub as a narcissist, always wanting to be close to his prey. They were right- he set up his slaughterhouse in a stall, close to his house.

Hotch told the team to split up. Emily, Rossi and Reid searched the house while Morgan, Hotch and JJ surrounded the stall. Emily wished Hotch had picked her instead of JJ but they didn't have time to argue.

They searched the house- it was empty, as they expected. Almost no furniture, everything washed sparkling clean. Emily strove to finish as soon as possible to join the others at the stall.

* * *

JJ tried not to think of the victims' mutilated body as she took her position outside of the stall, right at the door as Hotch had told her. She held her gun steady, waiting for him to give a sign for incursion.

Hotch looked around to make sure everyone was in place then nodded. JJ was the first one to enter, trying to cover as much of her body as possible.

The UnSub stood with his back to the door, in front of a table. And on the table, his last victim, alive but horrified. She was just like all the others- tall, blonde, fit.

* * *

Emily technically ran through the rooms, not even watching out. She just wanted to finish up and check on the others. She pulled out drawers, tackled shelves carelessly. She hoped JJ remained calm and everything went fine as usual.

* * *

JJ felt her muscles tighten, her senses sharpening.

"FBI. Step away from the table," she commanded, sounding professional but feeling unsteady. The motionless body on the table distracted her, she felt her breath speeding up.

The UnSub turned around but didn't put down the butcher knife he had in his hand.

"Put the knife down," JJ said, aiming at him.

"Just let me finish it," the UnSub said with an irritating voice. "Just this last one, please."

JJ didn't know if she should've thrown up or just pierce his body with a couple hundred bullets. She heard the others also arrived behind her; he was surrounded.

* * *

Emily finally felt she had done what she was expected and she scuttled out of the house. She was running toward the stall, when she heard JJ shouting. She forced herself to make an even faster pace.

"I won't repeat myself again," JJ said, placing her finger on the trigger. "Put it down. Now!'"

The UnSub made an unsure movement, almost like a lunge in her direction. He might have wanted to put the knife down, but JJ interpreted it as a threat and took the shot.

Hotch ran over to him.

"He's dead," he said and looked at JJ, searching her face. She still had her gun pointed at him, her hands shaking, adrenaline rushing through her veins. The sound of the bullets seemed to echo in her mind.

Emily stormed through the door.

"What happened?" she asked, scared and worried. She dared to take a breath only when she saw the UnSub lying on the ground, the others standing unharmed.

JJ looked up as if awakening. She stared at her gun confused and pushed it back to the holster with shaking hands. Emily hurried to her, putting her hand on JJ's shoulder, steering her gently out of the stall.

None of them risked to look back.


	2. Chapter 1

**Here we go, chapter 2. I really didn't think there'd be so many people interested in it, so thank you ****guys for encouraging me.**

Also thanks to Leah for getting this story up.  


**And again, feedback is very much appreciated. Thanks for reading, hope you'll like it!**

* * *

'I really missed this,' JJ said. 'I can't even remember the last time we could step out for a coffee together.'

'Yeah,' Emily nodded. 'It's been a busy time lately.'

'But now it's oh-over!' she said happily. Emily also let a smile creep on her face but she couldn't feel so cheerful.

She knew JJ was pretending. She knew her too well not to realize that she still felt miserable.

After all, she shot someone. She killed a human being. Even though he was a sick criminal, she took his life. Emily knew what it felt like to make a tiny movement, merely pushing the trigger- and launching a bullet that ripped away someone's life. To take fate's work in her own hands and, if only for a moment, to become the ruler of death and life.

No one should be able to decide other's fate. No one should dare to.

But sometimes rules have to be broken. And then we need to give us an excuse, one that's sole enough to silence our conscience.

Ever since they've become friends, she's been worried about JJ. She never had people around her whom she could trust; and when she found JJ, she finally felt like arriving home. Sometimes- hell, many times- she wished JJ hadn't joined the FBI, that she'd done something that does not mean a threat to her very life, even if that would've meant that they'd never met. She didn't think, not for a moment, that JJ was flawless. And that was what amazed her the most- she saw her mistakes, her bad habits just as well as the good ones; but she'd trust her with her life.

She'd been alone for such a long time. Having a friend that shared her laughs, her joy, supported her no matter the cost and has been there for her all the time- well, this was something she never stopped admiring. She was thankful for JJ and to JJ, just for always being there; just for existing.

The long years they've spent together made them inseparable. It formed a special bond between them, they could feel each other's feelings. And right now, Emily felt JJ's pain and bewilderment. And although she was worried, she didn't want to force her until she was ready to open up.

'Why are you so quiet?' JJ asked. Emily shook her head as if trying to get rid of her thoughts.

'Nothing. I was just thinking.'

'Don't tell me it's that guy again.'

'What guy?'

'The one who asked you out last week,' JJ grinned.

'Oh, that. No,' she smiled back. 'It's just, you know… The last case we had.'

JJ's face twitched but she put a brave front on.

Emily knew she wasn't OK. She also knew she'd never admit it.

But she knew too well what it feels like having to suppress yourself.

To suffocate your own thoughts, feelings.

To be broken. Alone.

'Come on, it's fine,' JJ said, trying to cheer them both up. Emily let out a small smile. 'I mean, it really is OK. There's nothing you should worry about.'

'JJ, I don't think you're over it,' Emily said, stepping in front of JJ, closing her way. JJ looked surprised at her.

'Look, Em, I'm thankful for helping me, really. But it's OK. Well, not perfectly, but still. I just don't want to talk about it, OK? At least not yet.'

'But will you come to me if you feel like you want to give it out, if you want to talk?'

'Yes,' JJ smiled gratefully. 'I promise.'

'Good enough,' Emily grimaced and they both broke into a smile.

Smiling felt strange. Like they haven't done it in a while.

'You've got the key?' JJ asked when they reached the car.

'Yeah, a moment,' Emily replied, searching her bag for the key. JJ walked around the car, to the passenger's seat, and put the tray with the coffee mugs on the car's top.

'Did you eat the key, or something?' she asked after waiting a couple minutes.

'I'm still searching,' Emily grinned. She finally found the keys and opened the car. She put her tray on the seats.

'You want me to help you with that or what?' she asked when she saw that JJ's tray was still on the car top. 'Hey, JJ?'

There was no answer.

'JJ? What the hell are you doing?'

She still didn't reply. There was a sudden noise on the ground, as if someone had dropped something.

Emily acted instinctively. She crouched down and at the same time, she pulled out her gun and cocked it. She started sneaking to the end of the car, still keeping low.

She risked a glance through the car window. She saw a man bending over something but JJ was out of her vision.

There were pictures chasing in her mind. She imagined JJ in every horrible position she's ever seen during her work.

Humiliated. Tortured. Reduced to shatters.

Dead.

Or longing for Death.

'Damn,' she cursed under her breath. What if nothing's wrong? What if she just got sick, collapsed? And that man was just checking if she was OK?

She tried hard for a moment to believe it. But she experienced too much of the evil in this world to grab such a calming explanation.

She drew a big breath to calm herself and stepped out from behind the car, keeping her gun steady.

'Stand up and turn around,' she said sharply, slightly raising the gun.

The man tilted his head.

He still didn't move from JJ. Emily wanted to see how she was, but he was standing in the way. She just hoped JJ wasn't hurt much.

'Who are you? Another agent?' the man asked, sounding amused.

Emily pulled up short. How did he know who they were? If she'd had doubts whether he was asking for trouble, they were gone now.

'If you know I'm an agent, you also know I have the right to put you into custody right now if you don't step away from my friend.'

He still didn't move- he just remained there, bent over JJ.

Like a predator over his prey.

'I have a gun. Unless you want me to put a hole in your head, you turn around and leave her alone,' she repeated with an edge in her voice.

He slowly stood up. Emily could now see his face- he had a hideous smirk that she was longing to vanish. But what he had in his hand made her even more angry. He was holding a tazer.

'Drop it,' Emily said, trying to hide her worry. 'Now.'

He stared at the tazer as if wondering how it had gotten into his hand.

'This? That's just a little toy.'

Emily raised the gun so it got on the level of his head. She approached the man, trying to focus on him, but JJ's still body confused her again and again.

'Drop that damn tazer, or I won't care about arresting you.'

'How noble! Abandoning the rules for a friend, that is just heartwarming. Did she get your full support when she murdered my son as well?'

Emily stopped. She looked confused.

'What are you talking about?'

'Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I haven't even introduced myself. My name's Jackson. I have a son - or at least I used to have until someone killed him with cold blood,' he said, his eyes narrowing in wrath.

Emily gasped. Jackson was the UnSub JJ shot last week.

'I see you know what I'm talking about,' he nodded. 'And so, I just wanna tell you that I'm not interested in you. I'd love to gather the entire team, of course, for some interesting medical experiments, but for now, she's enough. Don't worry, I'll get you too, I just need to prepare some nice place for that.'

Emily still hasn't lowered the gun. She still watched Jackson, but also tried to take a look at JJ, just to assure herself that she was fine.

'Make up your mind, dear, I think she'd need a doctor,' Jackson said, putting a ridiculous worried look on.

JJ groaned from behind Jackson. Emily looked there on instinct and made an unsure step. JJ hasn't moved, but Emily could see her eyes begging.

Jackson took advantage of the moment. He lunged at Emily. She lost her balance and collapsed on the ground, her gun falling out of her hand. He threw himself on the gun, grabbing it. Emily was just about to get back on her feet when he got over her, pushing her back to the ground, holding her gun.

'Well, that was just too easy,' he said. 'I thought you were at least a bit better trained there on that fancy Academy.'

Emily didn't give up. Not yet. She tried to hit him, kick or do whatever she could, but his weight just limited her too much.

He changed his position and pushed his forearm against Emily's throat.

She choked for air.

'I told you, I don't need you yet,' he said, pushing her throat even harder. Emily was desperately gasping for air. 'You're gonna faint, soon, I suppose. But don't worry, no permanent damage or anything. You'll just be out so I can take your, what did you call her, friend? And also, of course, you can await me.'

'Stop,' Emily choked. 'You're wrong… I… killed… your… son.'

'Oh my, this is just beautiful. You'd sacrifice yourself for her? Stunning. Too bad I'm not interested.'

'He had… deep blue eyes… didn't he? I saw … fear in them… when I… shot him.'

Jackson pulled back a bit, but Emily still couldn't breath properly.

'That's pathetic. He'd never be afraid of some stroppy agent.'

Emily tried to draw a breath. She could only cough.

She saw dots jumping in front of her.

Her vision became blurry.

'He begged… for his… life.'

'No,' the man hissed. 'He'd never do that. You weren't even there!'

'Oh, I… wasn't? The last thing… he said was… that we should… let him go… because next he… he wanted to… kill his father… and that'd have… only helped us...'

Jackson flew into a rage. He smashed Emily's head against the ground.

She fought to stay conscious.

'You'll regret this,' he snorted and, with an almost pleased smile, he pushed to tazer against her neck.

She barely heard the buzz. She felt her strength leaking away, but all she could think about was JJ.

She tried to fight back.

Not for herself.

For JJ.

She saw Jackson lifting her, but didn't feel it anymore. He carried her to a van and threw her into the trunk. She couldn't move, only her eyes were spinning all around, helplessly.

Back on the ground, JJ stared after the van. She tried to get up, fight, scream, but she couldn't lift a finger.

She watched Emily being tossed into the van, but trapped in her own body, she could reach for her only in her mind.

And she knew that was far not enough.


	3. Chapter 2

**_Aranyhal. Yep, that was in my language. No idea why I wrote this. I guess I couldn't figure anything sensible. Sorry._**

_**Sorry I posted it twice, didn't mean to, just got some problems with uploading.**_

**__****_And, of course, thank You for reading it. _**R&R, please.:)

**_Again, thanks to Leah for making this a readable story. She probably worked more on this than I did._**

* * *

_Move! _

JJ felt as if the concrete under her had melted, sucking her directly into Hell. Her body pulsed and throbbed; it almost felt like waves rising underneath her body, gently cradling her.

_How long does it take for the effects to wear off? _She tried to recall everything she knew about tasers. All she could remember was that the effects last for a different period for every subject. And that in some cases the shock lead to heart problems and death.

Well, that didn't help. Where was Reid when she needed him?

She wanted to sleep, to blend into the concrete, to leave everything behind. She was exhausted, but she forced herself to stay awake; she needed to stop him.

The fallen coffee cup suddenly grabbed her attention. The crushed cup lay not far away from her, its contents gracefully spilling from the lid. The brown liquid glided along the ground, meandered its way farther under the car and the trail hid behind the wheel. It was almost like it was escaping the scene, just like JJ wanted to do. But she couldn't.

Panic began to consume her when she heard a soft buzz. She saw Jackson again, bending over her with that smirk on his face. When she realized it was only her cell ringing in her purse on the ground, she almost burst out in hysterical laughter. Only her mouth didn't obey her will, which was probably a good thing since it was completely inappropriate given the situation she was in.

It was so ironic. The purse was so close to her, right next to her elbow, yet she couldn't open it to answer the call. It might have been Hotch calling, looking for them, he could have helped…

JJ desperately wanted to answer the phone.

Her body burned. She was sure that if she were to touch her head, it would have been burning up.

_Move!_

She repeated it so many times… Her brain knew what it was supposed to do, yet it couldn't make any change in her position.

_Move, damn it!_

She focused on her limbs, begging them, to get the message and move. Nothing. Her cell rang again, violently, demanding her attention. Help was so close. She made one last effort to do something. Anything. It was no use; she gave up. Now she only hoped someone would find her as soon as possible.

And all along, one sentence kept echoing in her mind: _'I killed your son'_.

She felt a tear rolling down her cheek.

* * *

Hotch stared at his cell, growing more worried with every moment that passed. He called JJ and Emily in turns, at least five times, but no one answered. He just wanted to tell them that they had a new case; to ask them come back as soon as they could.

"Still nothing?" Rossi entered his office and Hotch shook his head.

"I've tried at least five times."

"Maybe they just lost track of time. After all, we made the mistake of sending them out for coffee; that never ends well," he commented with a smirk.

"I know. But we need to get started."

"They're not that late yet," Rossi shrugged.

"It's not that they're late," Hotch said, still looking at his phone. "But that I can reach them literally any time, day or night, they always answer their cells. Why not now?"

"Their phones are still on, aren't they?"

"Yeah."

"Then just wait a bit more. Or, you know what, I can ask Garcia to track them down," Rossi offered. He knew they weren't allowed to use the database for personal issues but he was sure he could have convinced Strauss to let him do it. Or he simply could have done it without telling Strauss, that's usually how things worked.

"Not necessary. Let's just wait. They'll be back in a couple of minutes," Hotch replied, though he didn't even bother to conceal his doubts from his voice.

"As you wish. Let me know if you need me for something. I'll be in the conference room."

"Yeah. Thanks Dave," Hotch said. "And don't mention it the others yet, OK? There's nothing to worry about."

Rossi nodded and left. Hotch looked at his phone's black screen. His instincts told him something was up but he had no proof.

* * *

Sprawled out on the floor of the van, Emily was in a very awkward position. Her limbs had fallen asleep and not being able to move them irritated her. The back of her head ached where it had struck the concrete, but she didn't feel the warmth of blood, nor did she feel dizzy at the moment, which was probably a good sign. There was a constant sound of jingling coming from somewhere in the truck, driving Emily nuts. Even the smell of fake pine from an air freshener was starting to bug her.

She didn't know how much time had passed since she felt the buzz on her skin. She did know that her paralysis couldn't last much longer though; she just had to wait. The only problem with that was she had never been the patient kind when it came to her job. Being forced to sit around annoyed her to no end.

She was furious with herself. She made a ridiculous mistake, one that even the trainees wouldn't have made. It was the one time she let her emotions get the better of her for a short moment; the only thing that eased the situation was that she also was the one to pay for it.

Jackson seemed to have gone through a leaden transformation; he hadn't talked since he had started the engine up. Emily had the impression he had planned the abduction in detail, but nothing after it. It was like he had conned his role, performed it the best he could and then had no idea how to go on. Thinking back on it, she felt like he even had studied his lines, what he had planned to say, only she distracted him.

If her skin hadn't burned where Jackson thrust the taser on her, she would've laughed scornfully. He was the lamest UnSub she had ever met. If it hadn't been for her rookie mistake, he would never have overpowered them.

He couldn't smash her head with enough force to actually cause any damage besides the pain, she didn't even have a concussion. He didn't tie her up, and didn't even take her cell! She still felt it in her pocket -it had been ringing constantly. Thank God it was on a very low vibrate setting, not that it mattered much. Jackson had turned the radio on, turning up the volume incredibly loud and he sang along with the songs. Emily could have organised a party in the back and he wouldn't even have noticed it.

She almost wanted to give him a lecture on how a criminal was supposed to behave. She was offended by how inept and careless he was. He was simply pathetic. But that made her feel worse about herself for getting captured. She put those thoughts to the back of her mind in a nice little box because she had to focus on getting away from Jackson.

She could feel herself getting stronger. Her body still didn't obey her, but she had started to see more sharply, all her senses edged. The music pierced her ears. She felt the blood pumping in her heart, flowing to her veins, bringing her life back.

It turned out that driving wasn't one of Jackson's greatest strengths, if he had any. He was dragging the steering wheel all the way for no reason. Sometimes he turned around completely, just to smile at her, keeping only his hand on the wheel. Emily was sure she'd die because in a car crash he was likely to cause, rather than being shot by him.

He turned the car again, causing her body to slide along on the floor. She pulled up her arm reflexively to protect her head from hitting the side. When she realized what she had done, she broke into a confident grin. Jackson had no idea know who he was up against now.

She slowly lifted herself, leaning back on her elbows. Her legs reacted more slowly but they jerked and that made her feel in charge. She risked a look at Jackson. He was happily singing the song "They're coming to take me away" along with the radio. He was not only sick but also had a horrible taste in music, especially considering that he really needed to be taken away.

Emily closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. Tears started forming and she had to shake her head to clear her thoughts. She wasn't going to give this guy the satisfaction of seeing her break down. She was better than this; she didn't wallow in self-pity, that was not Emily Prentiss. She had been in much worse situations than this and survived them, so she couldn't let Jackson beat her.

From her position on the floor, she could see the console of the van. It looked fairly clean; only a few empty wrappers stuck out of a tray. There were a bunch of pennies on the ground, sliding around and rattling with every bump the truck hit. She also spotted about five tree shaped air fresheners, the source of the smell. But the thing that drew her attention was the gun. She had to crane her neck, but she could see it sitting on the edge of the passenger seat. If she could reach her gun then things would certainly be looking up for her.

Emily flipped herself over on to her stomach as gently as possible and got up on her knees. She swayed for a second, still not fully recovered. Her head pounded and with the swift shift in position, the vehicle felt like it was spinning, but she knew it was now or never.

Emily moved along the floor of the truck as quietly as humanly possible, stopping when she was right behind the seats. Jackson was still happily singing along with the radio, but Emily didn't want to push her luck. If she were to do this right, she could reach up and snag the end of her gun, making it look like the gun had fallen, and Jackson might not even notice. Emily angled herself behind the driver's seat, making sure not to hit it because Jackson would definitely notice that. Reaching out, Emily could barely touch the gun, her fingers just brushing the end of it before she had to pull her hand back so she could steady herself again. It didn't seem like Jackson had noticed what she was doing but she couldn't count on him being oblivious for a second time.

Emily was in the process of switching her position when the truck lurched, sending Emily into the back of Jackson's seat. She froze immediately, hoping he hadn't noticed but her luck still hadn't changed.

Jackson looked back at her, clearly confused about her intentions. He slapped a button on the dash and the music finally turned off.

"Hey! Stop!" he said. Emily rolled her eyes. She could have offered at least fifty sentences to use in such a situation, all more meaningful and sensible than_ "hey, stop_."

A car honked loudly, causing Jackson to focus back on the road.

She went to grab her gun again, but it was gone. She tried not to panic and figured it had fallen to the floor at the same time she had hit the driver's seat. Emily looked down on the floor, spotting the gun under the Jackson's seat. With desperate hands, Emily reached under the seat.

"Hey!" Jackson repeated, outraged that she dared to go against him. Copying her, Jackson searched blindly for the gun, barely keeping an eye on the road.

It was just out of Emily's reach, so she lowered herself even farther to the ground. She finally had the gun in her left hand, sighing in relief. Jackson must have figured out what had happened, so he pulled on a lever on the side of his seat. The next thing Emily knew, the seat was moving back towards her, hitting her on the side of the head. At the same time, Jackson had managed to stomp on her hand that was holding her gun. She fell backwards, holding her left hand close to her chest. Her head was spinning again and she could barely see straight. If she didn't have a concussion before, it would surprise her if she didn't have one now. The piercing sound of a gunshot cleared her head pretty quickly though. Emily looked up to see Jackson glancing at her, with a fresh hole in the wall next to her shoulder.

_I hope that didn't hit anyone,_ Emily thought as she stared at the bullet hole.

She turned back with wide eyes. She had thought Jackson wanted her for satisfying some sadistic need, to take revenge or something that'd last long enough to please him. Taking the chance to kill her right there didn't make sense to her. It was all so unorganized.

"The hell was that?" slipped out of her mouth, as she moved to the back of the truck.

"You can't try to hurt me," he said furiously, still turning backwards, holding his finger on the trigger. "Damn; you made me damage my van!"

Emily started seriously worrying about a car crash.

"OK," she said, raising her arms as a sign of surrender to calm him. "It's OK. I won't try anything like that again. Could you just turn back and watch the road? Please?"

"My car is damaged! You damaged my car!" he repeated, making a violent pass.

Emily braced herself against the side of the truck and tried not to seem scared about him holding a loaded gun with no control.

"I know. I'm sorry," Emily said calmly. "It was just my fight or flight response; as a FBI agent, I'm pretty much programmed to fight. I'm sorry. I can pay for the repairs."

He seemed to calm down a bit.

"All right. But don't you do anything like that again," he said sternly

Emily nodded as she thought of her ringing phone in her pocket. He turned back to the road, Emily heaved a sigh of relief.

"Anyway," he said in a chatty way, watching her through the mirror, "we're almost there."

* * *

There were people passing by, some even noticed her but no one walked up to her. First JJ had thought the pedestrians were simply cruel and unmindful but then she realized what she must have looked like from someone else's point of view. She was laying on her side, clearly conscious but not even trying to get up and some sort of liquid had been poured out next to her

She was disgusted by the attitudes people had now. It was ten a.m., she was wearing a suit jacket and was clearly from a high-class home and people still easily judged her to be an alcoholic, still drunk after last night.

Her mind was wandering, she needed to focus. She knew no more than three minutes could have passed but she still felt like it had been days. She felt she was being pathetic. _Emily would've overcome this so much earlier. _She tried, again and again, first a finger, then her fist, then her entire arm.

The relief she felt couldn't be described when she could finally move her arm. She reached for her purse, and grabbed it. She couldn't hold it the first time but she didn't give up. She kept shaking the pursue, letting everything inside to fall to the ground until she saw her cell. She reached for it and dialed Hotch's phone.

He answered almost immediately.

_"JJ, where are you? We have a new case, you-"_

"He took Emily," she said with a shaky voice.

_"What? Who?"_ he asked confused.

"Jackson... last week... father... He attacked us... taser... took Emily." She tried to hold back her tears, to be the professional she was. She knew Hotch would put it together, and he did.

_"Are you hurt? Where are you?"_ he asked, taking the control of the situation over. "_Can you come in?"_

"I don't think I can drive now," she admitted. "I'm still outside the coffee shop."

_"I'll send Morgan to pick you up. Wait for him. And JJ -don't worry. We'll find her."_

* * *

"Where's 'there' exactly?" Emily asked.

"At a cemetery, of course," he said as if it was self-evident.

"Cemetery? I hope it's at least a fancy one, with ghosts and all," Emily said.

Already she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep this up, but she wouldn't go down without a fight. And God damn her if she was going to give in to anyone. She knew she didn't have to wait much longer without help anyway. She still had her phone, switched on, now ringing continuously. She knew it wouldn't take much for Garcia to get a location on it.

"Well, it's not an actual cemetery, it's only for you," Jackson explained. He didn't seem to get her sarcasm.

"A private one? That's a real... honour."

The car took a sudden turn and she floor came up to meet Emily. Her hand throbbed as she reached out to stop herself from hitting her head again. A bone was most likely broken, along with a couple of her fingers, judging by the pain. The road became bumpy and she had a feeling that they weren't even on a road anymore. Emily stood up on shaky legs and gazed through the window; what she saw didn't really cheer her up. She was right, they were on an abandoned road, with trees lining the sides. They drove out of the forest, into a giant open field. The grass looked almost dead, with a few bushes doting the premises and a dirt road led to a rundown farm-house. They were in a middle of nowhere. Just perfect.

He stomped on the brake, the car jerked and stopped. Emily pitched forward, but managed to catch herself before she hit the seat. He took her gun, got out and walked around to the back of the van.

Emily figured this was one of the last times she would have a chance to attack, so she prepared herself.

When he opened the doors, the gun aimed at her, she threw herself at him, trying to throw him off balance and get her gun back. But Jackson was prepared for this, he simply pulled the trigger.

* * *

A few minutes after talking to Hotch, JJ had managed to pull herself up off the ground. She guessed Morgan would be there in ten minutes, so she leaned her head against the car's door. Her body ached and her head throbbed where she hit it off the curb, but she figured she'd be fine. Emily was the one she was worried about.

She looked around, making a note to get the security tapes from the coffee shop later. There were also a few people inside, so someone must have seen something. Her phone rang and she reached for it immediately. She figured it was Hotch or Morgan, but the screen showed the caller was Emily. She tapped the button with a shaking finger.

"Em? Thank God! Where are you? Are you hurt, Em?" she said in one breath. But there was no reply. "Hey, Emily?"

For another moment, there was no answer. When she finally heard Emily's voice, she already wished she hadn't.

"No!" she heard Emily's voice, screaming, "stop!"

JJ's grip tightened around her phone as she tried not to scream. A gunshot rang out and JJ jumped about a foot.

"Emily?" JJ said tentatively, praying to hear her friend's voice.

But the line was dead.

* * *

_Sorry, I just had to do this. Hope you'll check on to see what happens next. :)_


	4. Chapter 3

**So, here's the next chapter. I suppose it's not as exciting as the previous one was, but oh well, i hope you'll like it. **

**R&R please, and thanks to those who have done it before as well. Special thanks to Leah, it's become really fun and crazy to write this. ;)**

**Sorry for the cliffhanger in the prev chapter. I just wanted to see your reactions. But, and i'm sorry about that, even if you get to hate me for keeping you in suspense, it was totally worth it. ;) **

* * *

Confused, Emily looked at Jackson. A moment before, she was throwing herself at him, but for some reason she stopped. She saw him holding the gun, pulling the trigger. She even felt a harsh push on her left side, she guessed around her kidney, but she couldn't put it all together.

Then she saw him extending his arm, reaching into her pocket and taking her cell. He hit some buttons and put the phone on speaker, showing it to Emily. She grew even more perplexed when she heard JJ's upset voice answering the call. Completely uncomprehending, she instinctively reached out to grab her cell but she met the muzzle of the gun point-blank. She saw Jackson tilting his head, almost looking politely inquiring. Suddenly she felt like Jackson was going to shoot her, or to do anything else that would cause her unbearable pain. She lost control and screamed at him.

His mouth slid into an insane snarl. He put the phone on the ground and simply pierced it through with a bullet. The screen immediately went off.

Emily snapped her eyes from the phone and looked up at Jackson. She was still trying to figure out what just happened. All she could see was that her last chance to call help was gone forever.

She felt this was her last chance to get away; it gave her a rush of adrenaline, though she couldn't do anything because Jackson was still pointing the gun at her. Emily's mind started up again, working faster than usual. She remembered every small detail since her abduction, to an extent where she felt she actually was in charge of everything that's happened again. She went professional, deep in her mind already analyzing the optional ways of escape and consequences.

She knew she couldn't be far from the coffee shop she'd gone to with JJ. She also hoped Garcia managed to pull a location on her cell. And after all, Jackson wasn't a skilled criminal. He even left a witness, to whom he'd revealed his name. He was either arrogant enough to believe he could hide with Emily and eventually catch all the members of the team or he wasn't who he'd said himself to be.

Emily knew something wasn't right about Jackson -besides abducting people. Something didn't add up. A thought's been perching on the verge of her conscious, tantalizingly close. She knew he'd said or done something that grabbed her attention but she couldn't catch the idea, couldn't remember... It had to do with him taking revenge for his son... something wasn't right about that.

She thought it all over in a matter of seconds. She was still standing in front of Jackson, staring at him in the face. He seemed to be waiting for something. She knew something was wrong. She remembered him expecting her at the back of the van with the gun way too well.

Then it hit her. Unexpectedly, she grew dizzy, standing uncertainly on her feet. She took an unsure step, trying to keep her balance, but she fell to the ground. She felt her side burning up. She tried to focus on something different, picking up details around her, but all she could see was Jackson towering over her. Moving her good hand along her left side, her fingers were wet. Emily brought them up to see what the substance was and she was met with the sight of blood. Her blood. She realized she had been shot when she jumped out of the van. It was only adrenaline holding her up so far.

She knew too much of gunshots to simply ignore the situation. If she had been with her friends, with anyone she cared about, she wouldn't have showed her pain. And although she swore to God she wouldn't sacrifice her dignity to Jackson, this wasn't the time for playing the hero.

"You see what you made me do again?" he asked angrily. She didn't answer. "Was that really necessary?"

Jackson left her for a moment, he went back to the van. She wanted to grab the chance and run away, but she couldn't get up. By the time she managed to roll on her intact side, he was already back.

"You're not gonna get far like this," he said. "Here, let me help you. I don't have bandages out here but I've got something that's gonna ease your pain."

Emily wanted to protest but Jackson easily avoided her. He struck a syringe into her thigh and let its content slip into her blood-stream.

_Where the hell did he get a syringe? _she wondered. She felt the burning feeling floating away but she also felt her headed becoming lighter, growing tired.

She fought to stay conscious. She knew she had to bind up the wound before she'd lose too much blood. But she hardly believed she could get actual medical help anytime soon.

Seconds later, Jackson carried the insensible Emily back to the truck to finally take her to his sanctuary.

* * *

_The number you dialed is temporarily out of the service area, or away from the phone. Please try again._

JJ felt like slamming her phone on the ground. She took a deep breath and tapped the screen again. It took her several attempts to finally hit the right buttons. She was shaking and she had to force herself to keep the phone stable for a moment.

_The number you dialed is temporarily out of the service area, or away from the phone. Please try again._

She cursed at the mobile, trying to get some of her worries out of her system.

She knew she should've called Hotch but she didn't dare risk being on the line if Emily happened to call her. Somewhere deep inside she knew it wouldn't happen. But she refused to think of it.

She was too anxious to stay in one place. She got up and started pacing around the car, dialing Emily's phone again and again. She wasn't expecting an answer anymore, but she felt like she had to do something.

She soon got short of breath. Her head pounded, palms sweaty and she felt an odd, clenching pain in her throat. All her muscles felt unusually stiff, as if steeling her for a disaster. She took her jacket off and unbuttoned the first buttons on her shirt. It seemed like the collar was getting tighter with every passing second.

Thoughts chased one after another in her mind_. Did he shoot her? How bad could she be hurt? And why did the line go dead; did Jackson switch the cell off? ... Was she alive at all?_

She tried to shut her mind down; she wanted to focus only on bringing Emily back. She refused to believe that Emily was anything other than alive. JJ knew her; Emily would try to escape but she's never cared enough about herself. _What if she thinks she's not worth fighting for? What if she believes dying for a friend is actually a good way of ending life?_

JJ shook her head._ No. She'll try her hardest to escape and stay alive._ All other questions were exiled for now.

_I killed your son._

With all her power, JJ punched into the door of the car in a fit of helplessness. The pain in her knuckles dragged her back to reality. She dialed again, desperately.

* * *

Garcia was just about to take a nap -which was, of course, not allowed- when Hotch slammed on the office door. He probably meant that to be a knock for he instantly entered the office. Garcia hastily dragged her legs off of the chair she had them resting on and threw her sleeping blinder with ears on it into a corner. Hotch only raised an eyebrow showing his disapproval. Otherwise, as Garica noticed, he had a pretty strict grimace on, but he was Hotch. The days when he was careless enough for a tiny crook to form in the corner of his mouth, could have been celebrated as holidays.

"I'm actively working," Garcia said with as much grace as she could muster.

"JJ called," he said without even bothering to react. "Someone attacked her and Emily. Emily's been taken. I need you to get a location on her phone, though I doubt she has it on her, and find an address for an UnSub's father, Jackson. The son was the unsub JJ shot in the last case. She says the father attacked them."

Garcia's eyes widened with fear.

"Taken?" she repeated with a high pitched voice.

Hotch nodded. "I need you to focus Garcia; we don't know what he's planning to do with Emily."

"Is JJ OK at least?"

"She encountered a taser. I talked with her, she seemed fine but I'll get her checked with a doctor."

Garcia nodded.

"We don't know, how much time we have," Hotch repeated.

She turned back to her computers, already pecking away on the keyboard. She let her tears overcome her only when she heard the door shutting behind Hotch.

* * *

Morgan threw himself into the SUV and started up the engine with a rough push. He didn't waste time on the seat belt, he shot out of the parking lot barely looking around to check the traffic.

All Hotch told him was that Emily'd been taken, presumably by a previous UnSub's father. It was the first time he felt like checking on the criminals' families should also be a part of their job. With one hand on the steering wheel, he dialed JJ to figure out what the hell was going on exactly.

Morgan was worried about JJ, and Emily of course, but JJ was his main focus at the moment. He had only talked to her for less than a minute before she mumbled something about calling Emily and hung up on him. So Morgan decided to wait until he was face to face with her to ask what had happened. He didn't know what kind of injuries JJ had, and he figured she would have some because JJ wouldn't just sit there and watch Emily get kidnapped. Pulling into the parking lot, he saw JJ leaning against her car.

"JJ!" Morgan shouted when he cut the engine off. He jumped out of the car and ran toward her. "JJ!"

She lifted her head. Morgan slowed down- her eyes flickered with unspeakable anger and disgust. _For whom? Jackson? Or herself? _he thought.

"Get in," he said. "I'll get your car later."

JJ nodded and without a word, she got into the car. Morgan let her distance herself from him while he navigated out of the lot. When they were already on the road, he finally turned to her.

"JJ, what happened exactly?"

She didn't answer. She was just staring through the window, nervously shaking her leg and clenching the armrest. Her knuckles were all white and he could see she was shuddering.

She felt strange. Pictures, scenes kept popping up in her mind as if she was watching some morbid projections. She heard voices too -mainly Emily's- yelling to save her or screaming for mercy; but the voices never fit the pictures. She tried to look away but they took control of her sight.

Morgan decided not to force her. He knew she had to tell the team everything anyway, so he decided to wait until them. Even though he was just as worried, he did everything he could not to show it.

* * *

Garcia slipped her glasses back on her nose. She couldn't get a location on Emily's phone. It must have been switched off. She re-started the search engine, but came up empty again.

She was nervous and worried to death. She tried to block out everything and focus only on her job. As if it was just another case. She's helped solving plenty of them.

Only those cases concerned strangers. However awful and unsympathetic it seemed, she did all she could to distance herself from them. She couldn't have done her job if she had always let herself think about the people the case surrounded.

She wanted to call JJ but she thought settling her worries was far not as important as bringing Emily back. She tried to do her best but she kept making typos. This wasn't her style. That angered her.

There was no result for the location, so she looked through Emily's recent calls to see if she had been able to call anyone after she was abducted. She'd called Reid early in the morning, before coming to work; they talked for a couple minutes. Then she called her mother around eight a.m. It looked like that was the last call she made for a while, since after getting to work, she usually used her desk phone. She always said all she needed was some psychopath out there identifying her mobile making a call from the Bureau. Garcia guessed that was around eight a.m. when Emily and JJ to left to get coffee.

Garcia gazed at the screen. There were quite a few unanswered calls from Hotch and JJ, and the list clearly stated that Emily's last outgoing call was made at eight forty-two. She checked her watch; it was eight forty-six. Hotch had dropped by about five minutes earlier. Garcia was sure the first thing Hotch did was coming up to her to get a location as soon as possible. So he probably spoke with JJ before Emily called her.

Which meant she made that call after she was abducted. Did Emily have her phone on her after all, even if it was turned off? And what did she say? Was she OK, was she hurt? How could she call her? Maybe she could escape on her own too?

Her hopes immediately flamed up. She tried to restrict herself, but she felt the situation wasn't as bad as she thought. After all, she could use her phone.

She typed a command to get the location the last call was made at. She also launched a search program to find that Jackson man Hotch had told her about. Even if Emily could flee, Garcia wanted to see that bastard nailed up on the fence. Or at least in prison. For the rest of his life, which she hoped would be extremely long and painful.

While the program was running through the data base, Garcia picked up the phone and called Hotch to tell him what she'd gotten to know.

* * *

"Where's the rest of the team?" JJ asked curtly right when she entered the conference room. Morgan followed her. Hotch looked up from the file he was reading.

"Garcia's working on finding a place Jackson might have taken Emily," he replied. "Dave left to talk with Reid, they should be back soon. Morgan, could you go and notify Strauss?"

"Don't," JJ interrupted. Hotch looked surprised. "She's a bitch, she'd just hold us up."

Both men were disturbed by the sharp change in JJ's behavior but they didn't comment on it. Morgan looked at Hotch and when Hotch gave him a slight nod, he left the room to look for Strauss.

"JJ," Hotch said. "Garcia called, she said Emily called you after she was taken."

"Yes. And . . .?"

"What did she say?" Hotch went on, choosing a smooth tone that gave JJ some comfort.

"Nothing important. Something like 'No, stop'. Oh yeah, and then there was a gunshot."

"A shot?" he asked tensely.

"Yeah and then the phone went dead."

"JJ, I'd like you to go and visit Dr. Adams."

"The psychiatrist? I think you're confusing me with that monster."

"Please. We got this."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Like we got this when he attacked us. Or when he stuck that taser into her and I just watched it. Or when he threw her into that van. Or when I heard her screaming."

"A van?" Hotch interrupted.

"White, Mercedes I'd say but I couldn't see the license plate at all, only the side of the car."

"A decent start."

"Worth nothing."

"We'll see. JJ, don't worry, we'll get her. We even know who abducted her. We've cracked harder cases before."

"If she's still alive..." JJ said in an empty voice.

* * *

She woke up on the ground, in some sort of a building. There were no windows to let light in and the only exit was a heavy metal door on the front wall. She guessed she was in a basement, based on the cool temperature and the concrete ground, since she couldn't see anything.

She was cold. She couldn't decide whether it was because of the temperature or the blood loss.

Jackson wasn't around. Emily foggily remembered him settling her in the corner, telling her he'd be back soon. She also remembered the strident sound the door made when he closed it.

She wanted to get up to check the door, to see if there was any chance she could pick it. But she couldn't move at all. She felt extremely weak and vulnerable, which she loathed.

Inspecting the wound, she found that there was no exit wound, so the bullet was still inside her, possibly wreaking havoc. She noticed that there was a huge rusty stain marring her t-shirt, soaking the whole front and side of the material. She tried to pull it up and push it to the wound like a very primitive bandage but the blood must have stuck it onto the wound. Pulling it to the slightest extent made her see stars.

Emily's head was still throbbing, but not as much as it had been; she knew for sure that she had a concussion. And her hand also wasn't hurting as badly as before, but she could barely move her fingers without sending a shock wave of pain up her arm.

She really didn't feel like lying there and waiting for Jackson to return, but after several failed attempts to get any nearer to the door, she had to realize she couldn't get out. And even if she managed to escape, she had no idea where she was. She tried to memorize the road Jackson followed but she couldn't remember anything clearly after he shot her and stabbed her with that needle. Whatever he had injected her with had certainly done its job and knocked her out. Maybe that was why she was in less pain...

She leaned back against the wall, supporting her head and back. She tried to revise the events that led her awaiting her death in a scruffy basement.

That was when she suddenly realized what didn't fit the picture.

_My son. _The thought she's been chasing took shape all of a sudden.

She was the one doing the most paperwork concerning the Jackson case. She had to go through his entire life, starting from elementary school. She knew the people that surrounded him probably better than he ever did.

Analyzing his motives was also her job. They knew Jackson chose women resembling his mother who he thought was a 'whore' and therefore deserved to be punished. After his father's death, when he was merely eight years old, his mother started dating again. She didn't forget but moved on -and that was why later on Jackson went on a rage, slowly taking his twisted revenge on his mother.

That was it. A simple fact. The Jackson JJ shot earlier -his father had been dead for decades by now. His mother never married again, nor had she moved in with anyone else. Whoever the man who took her was, he couldn't be Jackson's father. And if there was no relation between the UnSub JJ shot and this man, Jackson probably wasn't even his real name. And when she took that in, she realized that then she had no idea what his motive was.

Unknown motive. Unknown ID. Unknown location.

And that meant the investigation had to take a whole new turn.

And neither JJ, nor the team knew that.

Jackson came back hours later, carrying a paper sack. Emily was sitting in the same position he'd left her, her head lowered onto her chest.

This wasn't how he imagined it. He wanted her to suffer. But all she did was sit there. She wasn't screaming, begging or bargaining. She just sat, not even bothering to look at him. She didn't even show pain, although Jackson bet a gunshot must have hurt like hell. After all, it could take someone's life. Like it took his son's.

He hoped he could get a reaction from her. That's why he purchased his little gift. He thought she'd be at least mad because of it, calling him names, fighting back.

"I've got a surprise for you," Jackson started.

Emily didn't make a move. She didn't care.

"Hey there, now look here already! I got it specially for you!"

Emily still didn't react. She heard his every word clearly but she was trying to block them out.

"Do you maybe want another bullet?" he asked and Emily could sense the disapproval in his voice.

_Yes_, she thought. _Yes, please._

She wished he had actually killed her. Playing her games wasn't her thing, not anymore, and at this point she didn't have the patience for it. Her torso still ached sharply, causing her to stay in one place. Even breathing was painful now.

But her instincts overruled her mind. She slowly looked up. She saw Jackson standing at the opposite wall, fiddling with a paper sack, the old inept smile on his face. And, near his leg, was standing his surprise, looking completely lost, staring right at her.

Her heart rate quickened. She felt the sheer terror covering her body and a scream was forming in her throat. So far, it was only about her, she was the only one to suffer the consequences of the chain of previous events. If it had stayed like this, even if she'd have to die, she would've made peace with it because sje was protecting her friends. But this was more than she was prepared for. She gazed back at the 'gift', not understanding how this all could happened.

She made an unconscious move, holding her right arm out as a sign of offering protection. Henry ran to her and crawled under her arm on her unharmed side.


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, sorry this took me so long, I'm having my entrance exams this month.**

**I know I forgot to clear up the period of time this story takes place- it's around season 7, so Henry's about 3-4 years old, but I handle the Doyle incident as if it hadn't happened yet.**

**Thanks to Leah for putting so much work into this! :))**

**Hope you'll like it and if you've got time, please leave a review. :)**

* * *

"Isn't it beautiful?" Jackson asked as he pulled something out of the paper sack he was holding in his hands.

He raised it to give Emily a better look; it was a relatively small video camera, and looked brand new. She could think of a thousand reasons why he'd need a camera in a basement, but none of them cheered her up.

"I thought I'd preserve the memories of the joyful time we spend together. Until now, I thought I'd use it strictly to pleasure myself by watching it,_ over and over_ again, but you know what? If you try to mess up my plans, this little footage might just end up in that stunning Agent Jareau's office. "

At the sight of the terrified boy, Emily's energy and her drive to get out of there were renewed. She had Henry to protect and she couldn't just sit there waiting to die because he was depending on her. She had to keep him safe.

"You're a monster," Emily gasped. She felt Henry's small body shaking against hers. He made absolutely no noise, he just sat there, curled up, leaning to her side with his eyes wide open. She tried to cover his ears to prevent him from hearing Jackson talk about his mom.

"I'm not the one going around shooting people for no reason and then justifying murders," he said. He seemed annoyed and Emily felt she shouldn't have angered him but she couldn't help it. Not with Henry hiding under her arm.

"I wouldn't say it was for no reason," she said coldly. "Jackson was a sadistic animal."

"He was an artist. A fighter."

"Your son was a sick-" Emily started sneeringly but the it occurred to her what she'd been thinking about before. "But you're not even his father, are you?"

"Of course I am. And you and your insane friends took his life!"

"No, you're not," Emily said calmly. "I did the background check on him; his father died years ago."

"Then your smart-ass FBI files might not be as accurate as you believe they are," Jackson spat out.

"Oh, they're accurate, I can assure you. And even if they weren't, I've spoken with Jackson's mother. I suppose she'd know if her husband had risen from the dead."

Jackson slammed the paper bag on the floor, dropped the camera, and quickly made his way toward Emily. His face was distorted with rage and contempt. Emily squeezed Henry's shoulder, trying to calm him as Jackson stopped right in front of them. She shifted her a body a little to give a better cover to Henry, her side burned from the movement but she ignored it as best she could. Jackson crouched and leaned violently towards Emily. She could see how his eyes had lost focus, how mad and lost he looked.

"I love him as I'd love my son," he whispered slowly. "And he knows that and he's almost already accepted me as his real father."

"Too bad you missed your chance."

"I haven't missed anything. You might have torn his life away, but he's here. He never leaves me."

Emily hung on to Henry. She started to be concerned about Jackson actually being insane. She had far too much experience with severely mentally sick people-the most important thing she learned from them was that they were completely unpredictable. However, a mental condition would've explained the extreme changes in his behavior.

And now that her suspicion-that this man and the Jackson JJ had shot shared no family relation-was confirmed, she had to accept that she depended absolutely on the team. She hoped they'd find out what she had and would start looking for other possible suspects. If they still believed she was abducted by Jackson's father and took that as their only lead, they would get stuck, for who knew how long.

"He's dead, Jackson. He's not coming back," Emily raised her voice. 'And anyway, he was too old to be adopted; he was an adult when he died."

"I thought if you figured that one out, you'd realize my name's not Jackson. It's Neil Robbins."

"I don't care much about your name. I just want to know why we're being held captive. You might have known Jackson, but you couldn't have been so close to him that you'd risk taking revenge on a handful of FBI agents."

"We are close," he hissed. "He says he'll let me legally adopt him after I've I avenged his death."

"Do you even hear what you're saying?! You're insane!"

He slapped her so fast she didn't even see it coming. Her head inadvertently shot backwards and met the concrete behind her. Blood was flowing down her cheeks and the injury on the back of her head started aching sharply again. She felt tears welling up in the corner of her eye but she didn't want Henry to see her cry. She blinked and turned her head aside, hugging Henry a little bit tighter.

"Maybe _I'm_ not the insane one here," he snarled, glared at Henry and then he stood up. "I'll be back in an hour, I'll get you some bandages. Not that it means you'll leave this place alive. I just want to play with you a bit before I slaughter you like you did to my son."

He turned around and walked out of the basement. Emily heard him locking the door from the outside. He'd left the paper bag on the floor, along with the camera. Now that Robbins was gone and the lights were finally on, Emily had a chance to inspect the space she was trapped inside. The two bare light bulbs attached to the ceiling cast an eerie glow in the room. Just as she suspected, the walls and floor were concrete and the door was metal. There was no way she'd be able to kick her way through that thing. Other than her and Henry, the room was empty; there wasn't even a light switch on the inside of the room.

She looked down at Henry. She saw tears in his eyes, his look begging. He leaned against her, hiding in the crook of her arm. It took all of her concentration to hold herself up with Henry's weight pushing her as well, but she found his presence consoling. She felt less cold and almost peaceful sitting there with him.

But when she gazed at him, she saw JJ desperately calling for her son, searching everywhere for him. Emily couldn't even imagine what she was going through. She hoped JJ would think Henry just went over to a friend's house without Will telling her, at least until they're found, but she knew JJ. She faced evil on a daily basis, she knew it too well.

* * *

Hotch ran over the Jackson file again, highlighting everything he found relevant and putting down quick notes in the margin. Reid was working on the large map he'd set up in the corner of the room, trying to find Jackson's possible location using geographical profiling. Rossi was out, contacting the local authorities and Morgan was still in Strauss' office. JJ was pacing back and forth before the window, dialing Emily's phone again and again. Hotch had told her it was pointless and she knew it as well, but she couldn't focus on work so she kept busy with calling Emily. She'd sent Will a text earlier, to make sure that everything was OK at home. He didn't answer yet but somehow she felt-or just strongly hoped- that they were fine.

A few minutes later, Strauss stormed through the door, with a nervous Morgan at her heels.

"You're off the case, effective immediately," she declared right away.

"Ma'am..." Morgan started as he caught up but JJ was faster.

"No," she said simply.

"Excuse me?" Strauss asked perplexed. "Agent Jareau, I believe this is not a-"

"I said no," JJ repeated. "This is our case. Jackson was our case before, we know him the best, therefore, logically we can find Emily in the shortest period of time."

"That's correct. However, it seems you have forgotten that you-and the entire team- has an emotional bond with the victim of this case, which means..."

Reid put the markers down and looked worriedly at JJ.

"She's not a victim," JJ snorted as she stepped closer to Strauss. Hotch stood up and took hold of JJ's arm, gently holding her back.

"I'm sorry, I believe people that have been abducted are considered to be victims of abuse," Strauss replied reservedly.

"If she's a victim of anything, then she's that of the Bureau, of your arrogance and of my wrong judgement!" JJ lashed out.

"What do you mean?" Hotch interrupted. "Did Jackson say something?"

JJ turned to him. It hit Hotch how weary she looked.

"Em... She said she... She said she killed Jackson, that she took the shot. That's why Jackson took her... He wanted me first but she disrupted him and lied to save me... Hotch, it's all my fault. She might die because of me."

Hotch strengthened his grip on her arm for a moment then he let go of her.

"We could have figured that out ourselves," he said. "We knew his motive was revenge anyway."

"But if he realizes it wasn't Emily who killed his son, he might just get rid of her," JJ said weakly. For once, she desperately wanted him to lie, to tell her everything was going to be just fine.

"That's a possibility," Hotch admitted.

She pursed her lips and walked away from the others. She stopped at the window, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular.

"Aaron, your team obviously can't function efficiently under such circumstances," Strauss said. "I will find someone responsible to take this case over."

"I'm sorry, but I have to agree with JJ," Hotch replied. "This is our..." he started when his phone rang. The screen popped up Garcia's name. "Excuse me," he nodded towards Strauss. "Garcia, I'm putting you on speaker."

JJ turned back, fixing her gaze on the phone.

"Ok, guys, I ran a search on Emily's phone, using mainly triangulation..."

"Get to the point, for God's sake!" JJ cut in. Reid shifted his eyes on her, giving her an assuring look, then he looked back at the phone. Strauss shook her head in disapproval.

"Sorry, Garcia, we're stressing out here. Go ahead," Reid said.

"JJ?! JJ's there? Oh God, how are you?"

"Garcia, the phone!"

"Right, sorry. I hope you're fine though. Em's phone seems to be switched off, or it might have been damaged. Anyway, I can't locate it. But I'm able to trace the place her last call was made from. I'm sending you the coordinates now."

"Thanks, we'll go there right away. I'll get back to you," Hotch said and put the cell down.

"I said you were off the case," Strauss reminded him. "Aaron, I'm your superior. I will go directly to the Director if you don't follow my commands."

"I'm willing to submit my resignation as soon as this case is over," Hotch locked eyes on her. "Until then, if you're not giving your full approval of us investigating this case, my team is going to work under my command, separately from your decisions. They're under severe pressure from me, therefore they shoulder no responsibility of the following events."

"Very well, Aaron," Strauss retorted. "But you'll soon see, it's not just about bureaucracy. You're putting Prentiss' life on the line here and you're the the ones who'll have to live with that. I take my hands off of you all. Don't say I didn't I warn you." She turned on her heels and hurried out just as she'd come.

"You shouldn't have said that, Hotch," JJ said softly.

"She left us no choice. Reid, Morgan, call Rossi and get the SUVs. Rossi will have to drive, I couldn't finish reading the file." Then he turned to JJ. "I don't care about Strauss. But she was right about one thing-I can't let you take part in this investigation."

However grateful JJ was for what Hotch had just done, her first thought was to punch him in the face.

"I already told you, she's gotten into this because of me. You can't seriously expect me to just sit around doing nothing!"

"JJ, you're incapable of making firm, clear decisions right now. You would hold us up, weakening Prentiss' chance of survival."

"Hotch, I don't... I can't...I know her the best out of everyone on the team, I... Hotch, damn it, she got shot!"

"We don't know that for sure JJ. The unsub could have just shot the gun as a warning, or maybe Emily was the one who made the shot."

"But Hotch." She shook her head impatiently as she felt tears flooded her eyes. "I know it sounds stupid, but I just have this feeling that she's not OK."

"We'll find her. I promise," Hotch said. He took the file from the desk and left.

And although JJ finally got the lie she was waiting for, it didn't comfort her at all.

* * *

Emily was awakened by a violent push and she reluctantly opened her eyes. She instinctively backed away but hit the wall behind her, as her eyes met Jacksons'-Robbins'- right in front of her, his hands running along her stomach.

"I was just starting to get worried about you," he said casually. "I'm almost finished here."

For a moment, she felt as if her heart had stopped. _Finished? With what? _She looked down at him and she realized that Robbins had bandaged the gunshot wound. It wasn't professional, he hadn't even sterilized it, but it stopped the bleeding and compressed the wound.

"I was so mad at you," he said as he grabbed her left hand and wrapped it tightly with compression wrap. "I had to leave so I wouldn't kill you."

His nonchalant voice sent shivers down Emily's spine. She found it odd that she had fallen asleep. She didn't even remember feeling tired before, and how she had managed to sleep at a time like this astounded her.

"He didn't want me to kill you, not just yet. And while I was outside, we had quite a chat. Do you know what he told me? He said I got the wrong person, that it wasn't you who killed him. Sounds interesting, huh?"

She leaned her head back against the wall. That was when she realized that Henry wasn't at her side. She tensely looked around but she saw no sign of him. _Was he...? _But she saw no blood except for the small pool on her left.

"Where is-" she started when Robbins, not even listening to her, went on.

"He said it was that other agent, the astonishing Jennifer Jareau. Which would mean you lied to save her, am I right?"

"Henry..."

"Jennifer's son? Isn't he a sweet boy? I'm sure his parents are very proud of him." Robbins finished patching Emily up and sat down on the ground across from her. "You know, I find it impressive what you did for Jennifer. I would never do it for anyone. Not even for my son or, well, for my soon-to-be son. But still, now killing you would be so pointless. He told me I have to avenge his death on the one who killed him, so you're useless. Which, of course, doesn't mean I won't kill you eventually. But, before that, I figured something out that, I hope, will please him and me as well. I'm not so sure about you though," he said. The crinkles around his eyes twitched as he gave her an encouraging smile.

"I found a pretty interesting article last week," he went on. "It was on some experiment, called the Pavlov reflex. Have you heard of that? It proves that with a given, artificial stimulus we can trigger another, natural stimulus. It's also called a learned reflex, I think. Do you know what reflex I'm going to teach you?"

Emily was struck by how comprehensively he spoke all of a sudden. He seemed to be as collected as he was when he attacked JJ and her or when he shot her_. Could it be that whenever he believes he's spoken with Jackson, he thinks he's gotten clear instructions from him and that makes him feel confident?_

"Are you listening?" he shook her shoulder aggressively

She bit her lips not to give a sound. She was still searching the room for Henry. But there was nowhere to hide. _He can't be gone...No, please, no..._

"You better pay attention," he said. "Because I'm going to put you through hell. I will make you believe Jennifer is the reason why you have to take all of this-which is true, actually. But I'll make you despise her to an extent where you'll wish you had strangled her with your bare hands when you had the chance. And you'll see this whole 'sacrificing yourself for a friend' thing just as I do and just as it really is: pointless, pathetic and ridiculous. Do you understand?"

"You're insane," she said, breathing heavily. "You can't change my feelings."

"You're wrong there. I can, believe me. What do you think will happen if I stick a knife into your flesh whenever you see a picture of her or I tell you some old story about the two of you? How long can you take that?"

"We're friends; I'd give my life for her-if that wasn't obvious to you until now," Emily answered simply.

"Friends. For now," Robbins said and he stood up. "Then I believe she will love to see pictures of you, maybe then she'll miss you less after you're gone."

He walked back to the paper bag and picked up the camera. He ran through some buttons and directed it at Emily. He made sure the pool of dried blood, Emily's bruised face and her arm bent in an awkward angle to ease the pain in her side, was in the frame. He smiled as he pushed the button and the camera flashed.

"Say cheese!"


	6. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, sorry this took so long but thanks very much for your reviews! And, as always, thanks to Leah for editing my writings, check out her stories as well (she goes by leahloahla and i hope she doesn't mind me putting this here, erm...), they're great!**

**I hope you'll like this chapter. So, get started, thanks for reading and leave a review if you've got time!**

* * *

The sudden flash blinded her. She involuntarily closed her eyes and when she opened them, it took her several seconds to adapt to the dimness again. Robbins was crouching in front of her, holding the camera. He gave her an unsatisfied look.

"This isn't the best... You look so nice, who would've thought you're not photogenic?" he muttered. "I'll have to take a new one," he added and the camera flashed again. And again, and again. Emily tried to cover her eyes with her good arm but it didn't help much.

Robbins made a sudden move towards her, as if he wanted to kick her. Her eyes widened and she did her best to shrink, to give a smaller surface he could beat. The light shot up again, but he didn't even touch her. She opened her eyes and saw Robbins grinning. He pointed at the camera.

"Now that's a good picture," he said smirking. "Thanks for the cooperation. You look so... exhausted in this one. Do you feel like screaming? Or do you want me to make you scream? I think that'd make a great picture, too."

She tried not to look at him. She stared at the ground instead, wondering where Henry might've disappeared to. She believed Robbins would've flaunted it if he'd killed him. But where did he go then? Could he manage to hide somewhere? But where? He couldn't have stayed out of sight in the basement.

Robbins wagged his head.

"I hoped you'd be more fun. Anyway, I'll stir things up a bit, OK? I'll go and get some toys. A chainsaw, maybe." His cackling momentarily filled the air. "You flinched, I saw that! Or maybe just a knife, we don't want you to die too soon, now do we? Or the Taser. Did you like the Taser?" He smiled down at her and turned the camera off. "You know what, I'll just ask him, he's got really good ideas. Sometimes even sick ones, but who am I to question him? He's a genius."

He stood up and sank the camera into his pocket.

"Don't go anywhere while I'm gone," he said, then he burst out laughing. "Oh come on, that was funny. He would've appreciated it," he said scornfully. He left the room and carefully locked it behind him.

Emily sank back against the wall.

* * *

Morgan jerked the steering wheel abruptly. He locked his eyes on the road, his foot stuck on the acceleration pedal. The landscape surrounding them blurred into an infinite line of brown and occasional green patches.

"Who made the report on Jackson's background?" Hotch asked, frowning impatiently. He was sitting on the passenger's seat in the SUV and he just finished skimming through the file on the Jackson case. It clearly stated that Jackson's father'd died more than a decade ago, in a car accident- but JJ said the man who'd taken Prentiss said he sought revenge for his son, the man from the file.

"Why, something wrong?" Rossi leaned forward from the back seat. Reid sat next to him, gripping the seat in front of him, looking pale and shaking.

"It's just that JJ... Reid, are you OK?" Hotch turned to Reid.

"What?" he mumbled. "Yeah... just, Morgan, could you slow-"

"No," Morgan replied, still watching the road. Reid nodded. Hotch waited for a moment then went on.

"It doesn't add up. JJ said the man who attacked them said he was the father of this guy in the file, the one JJ had shot."

"Yes. Garcia is already searching for his address."

"I know. But here it says Jackson's father is dead, he's been for ten years now."

"Three more minutes," Morgan interrupted.

"That's Prentiss" report,' Reid said. "I think she even talked with the mother."

"She could have lied," Rossi shrugged.

"Why, what would she get with that? And why hasn't Garcia called us with the address yet?"

"Do you mean the guy isn't who he says himself to be?"

"Maybe. Or maybe the father isn't dead after all. I'll call Garcia."

Hotch dialed. Garcia immediately picked up.

"Nothing!" she burst out, not even bothering to say 'hello'. "Absolutely nothing! Guys, I've gone through it at least a hundred times, there's only one match, Daniel Jackson, but he's dead! He has to be that UnSub's father, but he's dead, I swear, I looked..."

"Garcia," Hotch cut in. "Our file says the same. Is there anyone else, a cousin, an uncle, any relatives around the same age the father'd be if he was alive?"

"I tried, Hotch," Garcia answered. She sounded frustrated. "No one. No siblings, no uncle... There's a cousin, but he's only twenty-five and he lives in Canada. I have no clue, Hotch, I don't..."

"We still have some leads. Get a sketch artist to talk with JJ, she might be able to give a good description if she's not too distracted. We'll set up a profile and I'll get back to you as soon as we're ready, OK?"

"Hotch, what if she's...?"

"Get that sketch artist. I'll call you back."

Hotch put the phone back into his pocket.

"Garcia says the file's correct."

"So we have no idea who he is," Reid said.

"We need a profile," Rossi nodded. Morgan twisted the steering wheel and the SUV came to a sudden stop.

"Garcia said that's where her cell went dead," he said and he got out of the car. The others followed. The scenery has changed rapidly since Hotch called Garcia. The trees and bushed disappeared and they were staring into a huge, barren void of nothingness. It was naked brown field, halved by the road in the middle with a shack that was probably once a farm house, but was now missing half the walls. No living plants, no animals. No sign of life. Nowhere to hide.

"They can't be here," Rossi voiced what they all were thinking. "Damn, there's nothing here!"

"That's where she made her last call. They were here, not long ago."

"We should go back. There's nothing we could do here."

"I doubt they turned around and went all the way back," Hotch said. "That'd be too much time wasted, and he knew we'd be after him very soon. If I were him, I'd try to get as far as possible."

"But we have no idea which way they went. It'd be logical to stay on the road, unless he has a place somewhere out here." Morgan added. "If he didn't turn back, we'd just waste time going back to the Bureau."

"We stay here," Hotch decided. "And we set up the profile, that's our best shot."

"I'll go and look around," Morgan said. "Maybe there's a house or something we can't see from here."

Hotch wanted to tell him to stay and help with the profile but Morgan was apparently too anxious to stay in one place, so he just nodded. Rossi, Reid and Hotch went back to the car. Hotch took out a pen and flipped the report over.

"No guessing," he said. The others nodded. "All right. We're looking for a male..."

"Older than forty. JJ wouldn't have believed him if he wasn't around the age that Jackson's father could be now," Rossi said. Hotch put it down. "And I'd say they met after Jackson'd started his spree. He might have admired his kills."

"No family," Reid said. "If he had a wife and his own kids, he wouldn't have called Jackson his son. His friend, maybe his hero, but not his son."

"If he really believes he and Jackson are related, he must have some mental disorder, psychosis, schizophrenia, bipolar. But if he's a loner, what is likely, he might not have been diagnosed."

"Job?"

"Most likely something physical. You can't keep an office job if you have this serious issues."

"But other than this, we don't know anything about him," Reid pointed out. "And what we just said, none of this is sure, we base everything on JJ's description of a single, short event."

"We don't have anything better," Hotch said. "But we have to find her and I call these educated guesses. I'll call Garcia."

He was just about to dial when Morgan shouted his name. They turned towards his direction. Morgan had wandered off pretty far, he'd been circling all around but now he was standing on one spot, waving at them.

Hotch put his cell away and they ran to him. Morgan looked worried and determined. He was pointing at the ground.

He'd found a phone. Emily's phone. It was lying on the ground, the screen was black and shattered with a bullet in the middle.

"JJ said she heard a gunshot when Prentiss called her," Hotch frowned.

"Only one?" Reid asked, hopefully.

"She said so."

Morgan just shook his head and crouched down. She pointed at a brown stain on the ground. There were several spots all around the cell.

"She wounded the UnSub," Reid said, unconsciously ignoring the other possibility.

"Or she was the one who got wounded. Possible even shot." Morgan argued.

Hotch took out his phone again and he called Garcia.

"Did you get the sketch artist?" he asked.

"I did, but... We're still working on the sketch. Did you get the profile?"

"Yes," Hotch replied and he told her everything he thought they'd figured out. He heard Garcia pecking away on her keyboard. "And we found Prentiss' phone, the UnSub shot into it, that's why you couldn't find it."

"Thank God!" Garcia shouted. "I heard something about a shot JJ'd heard but then it was just the cell, oh, thank God, I was so..."

"Garcia," Hotch interrupted. "We also need a crime scene unit here."

"A crime scene... Why... What... Hotch! Is she...?" Garcia stuttered. "You just said..."

"She's not here. It's just the phone and... Just send them, OK?"

"Hotch, and, you said and, and what?!"

"Blood spatter," Hotch said reluctantly. Garcia went absolutely mute, even the sound of her breath disappeared. For a moment, Hotch thought she hung up. "We don't know whose blood," he added. "But I want to know. I really hope we find her before they figure it out in a lab but if we can't, at least we'll know if she's wounded since they reached this place. And if it's his, we could pull DNA. But, Garcia, I need you to get this done as quickly as possible. We don't have enough of a scene to bring out a whole crime scene unit and I'd prefer if we kept Prentiss' disappearance as quiet as possible. Don't give out any information that isn't necessary; the lees people who know the better. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," she said weakly. "I'm on it. I can probably get you at least two lab technicians, all right?"

"Fine. Thank you. Call me if anything comes up with the sketch."

"Yes, Hotch, about that... Never mind. I'll call you as soon as I get something."

* * *

"Henry," she called out softly. She was sure he wouldn't answer, that he wasn't even around, but she couldn't take the silence anymore. She needed to hear her voice, to remind herself, she was not dead. Yet. "I know he didn't hurt you. I know you're okay. I'll get you home. I promise."

She'd tried to make sense of his disappearance before, but now she didn't bother anymore. Deep inside she felt he was all right, that Robbins didn't kill him, nor did he hurt him. She looked around the room again, lingering at the corners, where the shadows were greater and darker, but he wasn't there.

"He's crazy, you know,"she went on, half-knowing that she was talking to herself, but imagined he was there, listening. "He wants to scare you. Break you. But you're not scared, are you? You're a brave kid, Henry, and you're smart, and we'll get out of here. I'll take you home, to mommy and you'll play soccer together, okay? It's all gonna be fine. I won't let him hurt you or anybody else."

She shifted a little, sliding a bit lower against the wall. She knew Robbins would be back soon and she also knew he'd make her suffer. But she was certain she wouldn't ever betray JJ. She wouldn't give into some psycho, it was beneath her.

She wanted to rest. She slowly closed her eyes. There was a low, shuffling noise from one of the corners. Her eyes flew open and she stared into the dimness. A small figure materialized in front of her, a little boy with glowing blonde hair and piercing dark eyes. Emily's eyes widened for a moment, then a slow half-smile crawled on her face.

"Hey," she said warmly.

"He won't hurt me?" he asked, clenching his shirt.

Emily shook her head. She felt oddly calm and peaceful. The pain in her side was almost gone, it went numb, as if it had fallen asleep. Whenever she tried to sit up higher or move her arm, she still felt the piercing pain, as if she'd been stabbed, but if she remained motionless, she almost felt comfortable.

"I promise," she said. He nodded hesitantly, then he walked up to Emily.

"But he hurt you," he pointed his small finger at her side and then her face.

"It's okay," she said. "He just thinks he did. He can't touch us as long as we aren't scared of him."

"I am scared," he whispered and she saw tears in his eyes.

She stretched her good arm. Henry cuddled up to her, just like he'd done earlier.

"Don't be. I'm here, and mommy's already looking for us. She'll come for us, do you understand? She won't stop until we're safe."

He suppressed a sob and nodded.

* * *

Garcia hung up. She'd already typed in the parameters Hotch gave her and the computer was now sorting through millions of people in the database. She knew the search would take at least twelve minutes to complete, so she took out her cell and while she dialed a friend of hers, Doug McLean at the crime scene lab, she left her office to check on JJ.

He picked up after a couple rings.

"McLean," he answered.

"Hey, it's Garcia. I'd need a favor."

"Now? I'm working on a case here."

"I know, I'm sorry. Listen, a teammate of mine was abducted, Prentiss; do you remember her? She managed to make a call after she was taken, and we found her cell and blood spatter. We need to know whose blood that is, like ASAP."

"You've got to be kidding me. I can't just drop everything and go to a crime scene to identify whether it's her blood her abductor's. I've got work to do here and there are other cases that need evidence processed. I can send out a team but you'll still have to wait. I'm really sorry about Prentiss and I really hope you'll find her soon, but I can't. I'm sorry."

"I know, McLean! I'm asking for a favor, it's just a help to a friend, don't treat it as a real case."

"Does Strauss know about this?"

"It's... complicated," Garcia said angrily.

"So she doesn't."

"Just help me out, will you?!"

"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do. And not just because of the rules, Garcia, this doesn't make sense at all. You have to see that. There's no point in sending a technician, collecting the sample, bringing it back, running the tests, et cetera, just to see whose blood that is. Even if it's not hers, that doesn't mean she wasn't wounded later on, it doesn't..."

"But if it's the abductor's, we'd get DNA!" Garcia shouted impatiently. She really wasn't in the mood to explain crime scene investigators why their own job could be useful.

"If he's even in the database at all. Look, if it's not a case, there's no crime scene, no official victim, not even an official abduction!"

Garcia got so mad, she didn't even answer, just slammed the phone down. She knew he was right but she refused to admit it. Instead, she went on to the sketch artist's office. She knocked on his door and entered.

He was sitting alone in his office, with a half finished draft in front of him. He looked tired and frustrated.

"Where's JJ?" Garcia asked worriedly.

"She stormed out," he replied. "She couldn't give me a real description, she was too distracted, couldn't even sit down. Once she was saying he had blue eyes, then seconds later she was convinced it was brown. He wore a hoodie, then a shirt. Brunette, blonde. I got nothing."

"Where did she go?"

"I don't know. But she looked really sick and pale, she might be in the bathroom, I don't know."

Garcia closed her eyes for a moment. No sketch, dead father, blood spatter. This just kept getting worse and worse. She tried not to think about what the UnSub might be doing to Emily at the moment. Then she unclenched her fists, took a deep breath, turned on her heels and left to look for JJ.

* * *

The metal door opened unexpectedly and it rebounded with a loud bang that made her jump. She felt drowsy and heavy, she must have fallen asleep.

Robbins appeared in the door, carrying a carton box. He kicked the door closed and made his way toward Emily. She could only imagine what was in the box.

Henry was still asleep, his head in her lap. She gently stroked her hair to wake him up. He opened his eyes and looked up at her sluggishly. She helped him sit up.

"Ready to roll?" Robbins smirked.

She stared back at him blankly. Then she lowered her head and whispered into Henry's ear.

"Henry, remember what I told you? He can't hurt anyone who's not scared. Remember my promise, okay? Mommy and I'll get you home. But until then, I need you to close your eyes, as strong as you can, and cover your ears. He'll try to scare us, but we're heroes, you and mommy and me. Think about something you want to do when we'll be home. Playing soccer, having an ice cream, drawing something beautiful for mommy, anything you like. Can you do that?"

"I'm brave," he whispered back.

"Yes, you are," she nodded and held him tighter for a second. Then she let go of him and moved farther away from him. Robbins was looking at him, his eyes flickering.

"Oh my," he said. "And you said I was the crazy one."

She didn't react. She just pretended not to hear him.

"You just made it all easier." He put the box down. "I was thinking about how I could make you actually tell those stories about the two of you and how I could make sure you were telling the truth. But you know what- it's so simple. The moment I think you're lying..." He picked up a knife from the box, pointed it in Henry's direction and made a cracking sound. She started and her hand clenched involuntarily. "You get it," he winked. She suddenly felt nauseous.

He smiled for a second but then he wagged his head in dissatisfaction.

"He told me I couldn't start with this." He put the knife back. "It'd end too quickly. But don't worry, I have a lot of ideas. I want to feel your blood on my knuckles."

He neared her, carefully weighing his every step, not taking his eyes off of her.

"So," he continued leisurely, "tell me about a memory that makes you smile, about something you and that pathetic Jareau did together. Killing suspects, maybe...?"

She drew a deep breath. She vowed she wouldn't let him break her and she convinced herself that the team would find her before Robbins could play out his sick game. But she didn't dare risk lying, giving him a reason to hurt Henry. She took a brisk glance at him-he did as she'd told, pulling up his knees and covering his ears, hie eyes tightly closed.

"Once we went to a bar..." she started slowly. Her throat felt sore. He stopped, only steps from her, and raised his eyebrows, looking almost politely inquiring. She slightly shook her head. "There was a guy there, Brad. He claimed to work for the FBI, and we had quite a chat..." She looked up at him, hoping it was enough, but he just nodded.

"Go on. Who else was there?"

"It was me and... And JJ and..."

She didn't want to drag anyone else's name into this. He motioned towards Henry. It was only a tiny gesture but it made Emily continue hastily.

"Penelope," she spit out. "Me, JJ and Penelope. We pretended that we were impressed by him being a real agent and all... He was a stuck-up guy, kept replying 'classified' to all of our questions. We lead him on for a while, then showed him our badges," she said and although she really didn't want to, she couldn't help smiling. That was such a great night, they didn't get away from work often. The memory warmed her, made her feel a bit more optimistic. They were friends, after all, how could he take that from her? She felt a rush of gratitude and confidence, knowing that neither JJ, nor the team would let her be devastated.

But in a mere second, it was all gone. Robbins overcame the remaining distance between them with a single leap and his fist came down on her as if lightning had struck her. His hand met her rib, pushing her backwards, against the wall.

"Beautiful memory," he sneered and he struck again, punches and slams raining down on her, on her arms, chest, face, legs, everywhere. "I really hope you have a lot like these," he went on and he kicked her stomach, only an inch away from the gunshot wound, then he smashed her head back against the wall. She felt like he didn't hit her as hard as he actually could, but she was weary and it was more than enough to take. Blinding white light exploded behind her eyes, blurring her vision and taking her breath away. She was slowly slipping into unconsciousness but she could still hear his cocky voice: "because I don't think you'll have the chance to make any more."


	7. Chapter 6

**Hey guys, i'm really sorry i can't update this at regular intervals, but i hope you don't mind it this time.**

**This summer, i'm moving to another country, so i'm gonna be really busy. The question is, how many of you would mind if i didn't go on with the story (or, if i did, that would be around September)? Please, let me know, cause if there're quite a few of you who think that it'd be worth to keep going, i'll do my best to continue. **

**As always, thanks to Leah for editing this story.**

* * *

JJ practically raced to the bathroom. She didn't care about the door slamming loudly behind her. She stopped at the basins for a moment but then she ran into a stall; she didn't want anyone to stumble in and see her like this. She closed the door of the stall and leaned against the wall of the booth. She felt panic building up within her rapidly. She was scared of losing control over herself which only made it harder to control her fear. Her breathing grew shallow and short to the point where she was feeling like she was choking, gasping for air.

Turning her face up to the ceiling, to feel a bit less claustrophobic, she crouched down next to the toilet. She tried to control her breathing, tried to focus on her throbbing heart but images of Emily kept flashing through her mind. She wouldn't have minded it if she could've seen the unsub as well, but this time, his whole character, his every feature was blurred.

She felt she betrayed Emily. She let Emily take the blame. She let her be abducted for something she'd done. She may as well have killed Emily with her own bare hands. That couldn't be much worse than standing by while she was going through God knows what.

She couldn't bear the thought of someone she was close to suffering due to a mistake she'd made. So she got defensive, unconsciously detaching herself from everything that'd happened, ignoring all the guilt and shame that had built up in her.

_Why did she do it? Why the hell does she always have to be like that?_ Unexpectedly, the cloud of panic had lifted. JJ wasn't scared anymore, nor guilty. She was infuriated.

She felt much better being mad than being guilty. She didn't feel the urge to punish herself, to hurt herself anymore. Instead, she wanted to hurt others. Badly. For a second, she was almost proud she'd killed Jackson.

She heard the door of the bathroom fling open. She remained still until she heard Garcia's nervous voice.

"JJ!" she called out. "Are you here? JJ?"

JJ took a deep breath, then cleared her throat and straightened up. "Just a sec," she answered. Relieved, Garcia leaned against the wall. JJ flushed the toilet and trying really hard to put on a calm, composed face, she stepped out. "Sorry."

Garcia looked at her, searching for an explanation, but JJ avoided eye-contact.

"It's not your fault," Garcia said eventually. "None of this is."

A disdainful half-smile showed up on JJ's face as she stepped to the basin. She stared into the mirror and she couldn't help but notice how disheveled she appeared. Her eyes were red and restless, as if she'd been haunted, but still shone with an odd light. Her hair was tangled from running her hands through it and half of her collar was sticking up. And that grin on her face looked out of place, virtually insane.

"Sure." JJ shrugged, washing her hands idly. She looked almost amused. Garcia shook her head. "I've got nothing to do with this, after all."

"That's not what I said."

"But it's true nonetheless. He wanted me, he came after _me_. No one asked Prentiss to play the hero. It was her choice. It's none of my business from now on."

Garcia fought the urge to slap JJ in the face to make that ridiculous grin vanish, to drag her back to reality. JJ didn't seem to notice it. She simply turned off the faucet and dried her hands.

"So, is there anything new about the case?" she turned around carelessly.

"It's not a _case_," Garcia retorted coolly. "A case is about strangers. But this time it's Emily. Emily, not Prentiss."

"All the same. Prentiss, the hero. Who lies to get beaten up instead of Reid. Who waltzes into a house, after having resigned from the Bureau, with no protective equipment, because she needs to save some totally random person that no one gives a damn about. Who gets into a car accident and all she cares about is getting back to work!" She made a violent gesture with her hand as if words couldn't express her condescension. "With a concussion! She doesn't even think who else she's putting in danger or that she's holding up our work. She's a hero, after all. You can't expect her to be reasonable. She's too... _noble_ for that," JJ spat out contemptuously.

Garcia couldn't take it any longer. She lurched forward, grabbed JJ's shoulder and pushed her to the wall. She stared back with a slight gape in surprise. Garcia seemed just as shocked by her own violence. Embarrassed, she let go of JJ and took an uncertain step back, adjusting her glasses.

"I'm sorry," she said, trying to control her shaking voice. "But, I will not let you fall apart nor allow you to pretend this hasn't happened or that none of this matters. I will not let you take the easy way out; you won't ignore what she did for you and what's happening to her simply because you can't live with your guilt! Like it or not, she saved your life," Garcia went on and she didn't even bother to hide her anger anymore. "Do you even understand that? She is willing to go through whatever that maniac has in store for her, because she thinks your life if worth more than hers, because she doesn't care about herself as long as you're all safe! If she has to decide which one of you'll be scarred for life, or which one of you'll be killed, she'll take it all for you, without even thinking about it, because she's your friend; do you hear me? Your friend! And don't you dare forget that!"

Having run out of breath, she just shook her head in frustration again at JJ's silence.

"And what's new?" she continued. "Morgan found Emily's phone; it's damaged, apparently the unsub shot it, so that might've been the shot you heard. But they also found blood, we don't know whose, yet, but she is probably wounded and she's been gone for almost four hours now. And the man who took her, he's not Jackson's dad as we thought, meaning we have nothing to go on," she fumed, then she stopped for a second. "I'll give you five minutes. Pull yourself together, then go to the sketch artist, because we need that sketch. _She needs it_. And after we have the sketch and we ID the guy, but _only_ after that, call me and then you can be angry or cry or do anything you need to do to accept this. But until then, she's more important than any one of us feeling guilty."

She saw JJ blinking tears out of her eyes but she decided to ignore it. So she just turned on her heel and walked out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind her, JJ gave up. She couldn't help it anymore. The tears came flooding down her cheeks, her fists clenched involuntarily, her breathing became short and shallow again as she held back a sob.

_'I killed your son,' _Emily's voice echoed in her mind again, but then a stronger voice caused it to fade. _'Five minutes.'_

She dug her nails into her palms and she made up her mind. She'd go and make that sketch. She wouldn't let her down. It was her turn to save Emily. But first, she had to do something else to be completely able to focus. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed Will. He picked up fairly quickly.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked and JJ could feel that he was smiling.

"Will..." she started and she almost broke down sobbing again, but then she managed to keep it together. "I need you to get Henry, right now. I need to know that you're watching out for him."

"But, JJ, I'm working and he's at a friend of his anyway."

"Please, Will," she said desperately.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes," she said reflexively. "No, actually. Emily was taken by a lunatic. And he was after me, not her..." she added. Having said it out loud, it made her feel even more miserable. Will listened quietly and patiently.

"Do you want me to go there, to help?" he asked. "JJ, I really don't like this, if he's after you..."

"I'll be fine, I'm at the office, there's no way he'd get in here. Please, I just need to know that the two of you are safe."

"Sure," he answered after a slight pause. "Don't worry, I'll go and get him right away. Is that okay?"

"Thank you," JJ sighed. "Could you please call me when you have picked him up? I want to talk to him."

"I will," he assured her. "Take care and, please, don't leave the office. I love you, JJ. We'll be waiting for you at home."

"Love you too," JJ said thankfully and hung up. Smoothing her shirt, she looked into the mirror once more. This time, a determined but collected and professional reflection stared back.

* * *

_Garcia and JJ were sitting on an old, rickety couch, talking to a lanky guy in a fancy suit. The way he stood and smiled made him appear untrustworthy and overly self-satisfied and seeing JJ's innocent smile and mischievously shining eyes, she knew they were leading him on right away. Trying to hold back her laughter, Emily sat down on the couch between them._

_"Brad over here is a real FBI agent!" Garcia explained excitedly. JJ's smile grew wider._

_"You don't say!" Emily gasped. "What's your department, Mr. Agent?'_

_"It's confidential," JJ whispered playfully, clearly trying not to laugh. "But there's no doubt he's an agent, I mean, look at those biceps and huge hands! Standard FBI."_

_Garcia theatrically investigated her own hands then puckered her lips in dissatisfaction._

_"Want to see how powerful I am?" he inquired. They all nodded hastily. "There you go then... That's for you, JJ."_

_And he landed a blow on Emily's face. Then another one, another, another, and he just wouldn't stop. She tried to protect herself. She heard him laughing and saw JJ and Garcia sitting by sluggishly, watching them curiously, smiling._

She woke up with a twitch. She was lying flat on her back on the concrete, and for a moment, she couldn't remember where she was. But that horrifying feeling from her dream still lingered on, and it forced her to remember. Sitting up seemed almost impossible. She couldn't recall how he beat her up exactly, but she was bleeding from smaller cuts and bruises she definitely didn't remember. _Could he go on kicking her after she 'd blacked out? _She was dizzy and her body felt heavy, reluctant even to carry out the most basic movements, as if it also had turned against her.

"Oh, darling, you must be exhausted! You were out for almost half an hour!" A deep, cheerful voice called from the opposite wall of the basement.

She turned her head in that direction. Robbins was sitting across her, leaning against the wall, with his knees pulled up to his chest. Next to him was the dirty, brown box that she remembered far to well from the moment when he'd pulled a knife out of it, flailing it towards Henry. He noticed she was looking at the box. With a confident smile, he poked it.

"This is like a treasure chest," he explained. "All I have to do is use what's in it. This, for example," he held up the taser he'd used to immobilize them in the morning. "Or these," he pulled out a lighter and a switch-blade. Emily shivered. "But I can put this neat little box away and you'll never have to face the horrors inside," he went on. "You just have to say that it was her fault. That everything that's happening to you, that throbbing under the bandage, the broken hand, that nasty cut across your forehead, it's all because of her. Because she let you get hurt instead of herself. Tell me that Jennifer is the reason I can kill you at anytime."

She wanted to say it. After all, why did it matter what she told him? She had to do everything she could to survive this and get Henry home. Who cares what she told him, they were just words. She didn't need to mean them, only utter them and this would all stop. But despite all the humiliation, fear, pain and hopelessness, she couldn't do it. She couldn't let Henry hear her betraying his mom. And she wasn't sure what she'd think of herself if she ever got out of this basement. How could she live with having said it out loud, with having blamed JJ for something that wasn't even her fault?

"I already told you," she started and her voice was hoarse, her throat dry. "She's my friend. I'd do the same all over again."

"Very well then," he said and he grabbed something in the box. Approaching her, Emily saw the taser in his hands. She tried to move farther away, crawling across the room, but she didn't stand a chance.

* * *

"Like that?" the sketch artist showed the finished picture to JJ. She hesitated for a moment but then nodded.

"Yes. Exactly like that."

"I'll call the tech department to run face recognition. Good job."

"Yeah," she said mindlessly. "Sorry for that incident."

"That's all right," he shrugged. "I've got to go get the results as soon as possible."

JJ nodded and followed him out of the office. She made her way towards Garcia's lair. She was embarrassed and ashamed for everything she said. She meant none of that but since she still said it, it must have been on her mind. Halfway to the office, her cell rang.

"Will?" she picked up.

"Hey, how are you? Any developments?"

"Not much. I'll have to stay in longer today..."

"I realized that much," Will sighed. "But that's okay, we understand."

"Thank you," JJ said gratefully. "Is Henry with you?"

"Yeah, I just got him. Wanna talk to him?"

"Please," JJ smiled nervously. There was a bit of clatter as Will handed the cell over to Henry.

"Mommy?" Henry asked, clumsily waving his hand, not realizing that JJ couldn't see him.

"Hey, kid," JJ said relieved. "Is everything all right? Did you enjoy your day?"

"I drew a picture of you," he announced proudly.

"Awesome, buddy! Hey, I have to work, but I need you to help me. Could you take care of Daddy?"

"Because I'm smart?"

"That's right. Smarter than Daddy or I, got it? I gotta go but I'll be home as soon as I can, okay? I love you, buddy."

"Love you," he replied, drawing out the 'you.'

"Take care, JJ," Will took the cell back.

"You too," she answered and hung up. At least the two of them were safe.

* * *

"Say it!" Robbins screamed into Emily's face. "Say it, God damn it!"

She managed to shake her head, exhausted. With a distorted grimace, he kicked her in the ribs, so forcefully that she felt herself slam against the wall. She gasped for air. A new trickle of blood dripped out of her shirt and she realized the bandage he'd applied so thoughtfully to the gunshot wound wouldn't stand a chance at the new blood seeping through it.

"So pathetically stubborn," he spat. "Now look at that! Look what I have to do because f her!" This time, he kicked the wound directly. For a second, she lost all self control and screamed, out of her mind. Her vision went blurry and her ears ached but she didn't realize that that inhuman scream came from her throat. "All you have to do is to say it," he lowered on his knees. "And then I'll let you go. Hell, I'll even drop you off at a hospital, just admit it!"

She wasn't listening. Her ears were still buzzing and she couldn't focus on anything but pain.

"Say it!"

She wasn't thinking. Her body, burning and sore, gave up. She opened her mouth, completely unaware, to obey him, to say it, to admit that yes, it was all because of JJ. It was JJ's fault that she was lying there, not being able to get up, not being able to control her own body, that she was in hell. She was longing to say it. It would be so easy. A few words, completely meaningless, and it would all be over. And, after all, it really was her fault, wasn't it? Then why not just say it?

But then he spoke.

"It's okay," she heard Henry's soft voice whispering. "You've come so far! You're stronger than him. Just go to sleep. Rest. Dream. Fly away."

Reaching out, grabbing and squeezing his tiny, warm hand for comfort, she floated away.


End file.
